“Harls,” she probes.
“Sin,” I purr back.
She pours an obscene amount of peppermint mocha creamer into her coffee as she speaks, “I don’t buy it.”
“Jesus, Sin. Can you even taste the coffee anymore?”
“That’s the whole point, I like my creamer with a side of coffee.” She shrugs, “Stop avoiding my statement.”
“Just because something is private doesn’t make it untrue, Sin. I have to go, Precious is expecting me.” I smile devilishly at my best friend, blowing her a kiss and turning toward the front door.
“We’ll see about that!” Sinclair shouts at my back.
The entire drive to Collins’ house, I replay last night and the talk with the girls, all the details to make sure I can relay them properly tomy boyfriend. He won’t say no, right?
Chapter 2
Oh, Look, Mac N’ Cheese
Collins
Precious begins scratching at the front door as soon as the doorbell rings; she knows that Harley has arrived. I just finished plating our elevated mac n’ cheese, meaning I seasoned boxed mac and added protein to it, along with a veggie on the side.
Upon opening the door, Harley stands there, her dark brown curls pulled out of her face, some hanging loosely. Every time her eyes meet mine, my breath is stolen from my lungs. Something about Harley Wheeler keeps me enraptured, even doing the most mundane things.
“Hey, Peppermint.” I greet, trying not to smile too widely in her presence. She quirks a brow at my nickname but has yet to ask me where it came from.
“Hi, Collins. Precious!” She scoops my cat into her arms, walking further into my small home. Precious immediately nuzzles into her chest.
“Just finished dinner.”
“Oh, yay! I’m starving. Sinclair was scrutinizing me before I left, so I didn’t eat.” She shrugs it off as if I’m not going to prod for more information.
“Scrutinized you because…” Leaving it open-ended, hoping that, as she usually does, she’ll spill the reasoning.
“Um, no reason in particular.”
“Harls, why are you being so weird?”
“Me? Weird? Never! Oh, look, mac n’ cheese.” Harley swipes the bowls of macaroni, while I grab two sparkling water bottles from my fridge and leading me to the couch, where I sit befuddled.
Harley and I can house food together, but the way she devours this mac n’ cheese to avoid talking to me has me replaying the last few days.Did I miss something?
“Do you have a fever?” I set my bowl down and reach for her forehead.
“No.”
“Well, you need to talk to me because whatever is happening here,” I gesture to the area where she sits with my hand, “is freaking me out.”
“I don’t even know how to start this conversation.” She bemoans, and my brain automatically spirals into worries for her safety.
“Did something happen with?—”
“No!”
“Okay, good.”
“Alright, so you know that big trip we’re all taking together in a few weeks?” She asks sheepishly.
